Identity
by Ashardalon125
Summary: Chris visits Rebecca after remembering certain things in the wake of the Mansion Incident. Things he hadn't believed, or allowed himself to believe, at the time. (Based on Ship of Theseus by Ferric)


Author's Note: This one shot takes place in my larger canon, and is largely based on the _Ship of Theseus_ fic by Ferric. All credit for the original idea goes to Ferric. Some material may be upsetting to readers.

Identity

Chris looked up at the small apartment complex as he stepped out of his car. It had taken him a bit of effort to find this place, especially since it had been some time since he'd last seen Rebecca. The last time he'd _properly_ seen her, he corrected. They'd run into each other a couple of times during government meetings when they gave testimony, but that was never for more than minutes at a time. They both had things to do.

No, the last time he'd properly seen her was after the mansion incident. To say she had taken it poorly was an understatement. She had been a nervous wreck. Looking back, he still felt guilty about it. They had immediately gone after Umbrella, leaving her to cope on her own. It needed to be done, but he wasn't happy about it.

What he blamed himself for was not checking in on her since then. There had been plenty of opportunities, but he'd simply...forgotten. Or remembered at inconvenient moments. Or had something more pressing.

He shook his head at the thought. She might not have been a member of Alpha team, but she was a member of S.T.A.R.S., and he'd left her behind. He had to apologize for that.

And he'd remembered some other things. Things that, at the time, he'd dismissed as shock, and hysteria. For the first time, the gun in his coat felt heavy, and made him nervous. He hoped that whatever happened in there, two people walked out.

Closing the door, he started towards the stairs, shrugging his coat up closer to fight the cold winter air. At the top of the first landing, he turned to look out over the small town. It had been a long drive to this place, and he wasn't sure why she had decided to live here. It was out of the way, with relatively few amenities.

Perhaps it was the isolation. He'd considered moving away from everything after what they'd been through. Barry had done it, if the family postcard from Canada counted for anything.

Trudging his way up the second set of stairs, he began reading the numbers, checking with a small note in his pocket. It was all he really had to go on, but he hoped he wasn't wrong. Finally, he reached the door.

He raised a hand hesitantly towards the doorbell. A number of thoughts ran through his head as his finger hovered inches from the buzzer, but he forced through them and pushed it anyway, hearing the chime inside. Putting his hands in his pocket, he waited patiently, listening for sounds inside.

At first there was nothing, and for a moment, he worried he'd gotten the wrong number, or an abandoned room. Then he heard a voice far from the door. "One moment!"

It sounded a bit like Rebecca, though he hadn't talked with the girl much. Chris chuckled to himself slightly. At the time, she'd been a girl. After that...he doubted the moniker applied much. She'd survived the night, when so many others hadn't. But he didn't know her well enough to judge.

It was starting to take a while, and Chris narrowed his eyes suspiciously. What was taking so long? He wasn't about to complain, especially since he was unannounced, but even if she had been in a shower, it shouldn't have taken this long. Maybe she was tidying up?

Suddenly, a rush of warm air hit him as the door was cracked open. Rebecca peered around the corner at him, eyes widening in surprise. Smiling slightly, he lifted a hand in silent greeting, averting his gaze for a moment. "Hey...Rebecca."

"Lieutenant Redfield!" she startled, snapping off a small salute. Chris quickly dismissed it.

"Captain now, actually," he corrected with a mirthless laugh. He still wasn't used to the title. Wesker had been their captain. Wesker had been the traitor. Every time he heard "Captain", he wanted to punch someone. "Mind if I come in? If not, that's al-"

"No, no, come in!" she invited hurriedly, opening the door wide. Chris nodded his thanks, stepping into the foyer. The first thing he noticed was just how warm and humid it was. It was like stepping into a greenhouse, and immediately set his nerves on edge. The second thing he noticed was just how dark it was. The shades were down, and the only light in the hallway was coming from the door. Had she been asleep? She would have thrown on a light if she was cleaning. "Sorry about the heat. Not a fan of the cold."

The second she closed the door, he felt a knot in his stomach, but he kept his cool, watching her from the corner of his eye. The lights came on, and she smiled nervously at him. "Was taking a nap."

Chris nodded understandingly, and briefly thought to take off his coat before feeling the weight in the breast pocket. Dismissing the idea, he followed Rebecca into the apartment, taking stock of the layout. There was a small kitchen, laundry room, a living room, and a pair of doors he assumed led to the bedroom and the bathroom. None of the lights were on in any of the rooms, he noted, glancing at the bases of the doors.

As he followed her into the living room, one of the things he noticed was the wooden floors. He wasn't sure why it stuck out to him, other than he was already on edge. Rebecca flipped a switch in the living room, revealing the small room's contents. She turned to him expectantly. "I uh...wasn't expecting to see you."

"I don't blame you," he agreed sadly. "Our last real meeting wasn't the most...pleasant thing."

Rebecca's eyes went downward. "Right...the mansion…"

"I wanted to apologize for not being there," Chris said directly. "You might not have been a member of my team, but you were part of S.T.A.R.S., and went through the same things as us. More, even. And we weren't there for you."

"No, it's fine," she waved, moving to sit on the couch. "You had to go after Umbrella-"

"Umbrella had to go down, but we could have come back afterwards. Or checked in on you," Chris insisted. "And we didn't. I didn't. And for that, I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me."

"Don't worry about it," she said with a smile that Chris wasn't entirely convinced was happy. "That's water under the bridge."

Chris nodded reluctantly, letting it pass. "So how have you been since? We haven't had a chance to really talk."

"It's been...good," she said after a moment, fishing for the word. "Quiet, which is nice. Done a lot of lobbying to politicians to take all this more seriously. Wrote to some professors about the virus. Doing my little part."

"I can respect that," Chris agreed, shuffling on point nervously. The longer he stood, the more nervous he felt. Something was off, and he couldn't place his finger on it. "After something like the mansion, I doubt many people would want to go back out and fight."

"You did," she pointed out, before gesturing to a couch. "You can sit if you'd like."

Chris eyed the couch for a moment, ultimately deciding he had no rational reason to avoid sitting. Slowly, he sat down, leg muscles tensing as if expecting it to eat him. But nothing happened, and Rebecca just smiled politely at him. "I'm a soldier, through and through. This is the only way I know how to fight the virus."

"I found out I'm not," she said with a laugh. "I'm a scientist, and a civilian. The most I can do is offer advice and help in whatever way I can."

"We need those too," Chris agreed, at a loss for things to say. Rubbing his forehead, he sighed internally. He had hoped this would be a simple affair. Come in, say hello, apologize, make some idle small chatter, exchange communications, leave. Like visiting an old friend. He felt the knot tighten, and he knew that there was no avoiding it any longer. "Listen...I came here to talk about something."

He could see Rebecca's features tighten, her hands clasping tighter, but she said nothing. Chris continued, "I've been thinking about the mansion incident recently, trying to go back over everything. I started to remember some things I'd dismissed before. Things about you."

"C-Chris, I...you don't need to-" Rebecca stammered, but Chris just leaned forward, continuing.

"When we first met up in the mansion, you tried to tear up your own arms, yelling about leeches. And then when we were splitting up, you screamed about leeches when Barry tried to touch you after you collapsed." Chris fixed her with his gaze, hearing his pulse in his ears. Each beat of his heart pressed the gun tighter against his coat. Finally, he decided to be as straight as he could. "Were you infected?"

Rebecca's mouth opened, but no words came out. A few starting sounds, but nothing articulate as she tried to figure out what to say. Chris felt his pulse spike as he realized what this meant. His hand twitched, and he was tempted to go for his gun, but another part held him back. How had she survived this long infected? Was she like Jill?

"Chris...please don't…" she said quietly, her voice weak. "I don't...please…"

Chris set his lips tight, struggling inside. Reflexively, he wanted to say "I promise I won't hurt you." But that was a lie. If she was a risk, a danger…

"Just tell me the truth," he said. "We both survived the mansion. We can talk this out-"

Rebecca's sad laugh interrupted him, and she wiped away tears as she looked up at him. "You survived the mansion, Chris. _You_ survived. I didn't. I died in there."

Chris was about to ask what she meant when she raised her arm. She reached up her other hand, gripping her pinky and ring finger tightly. Before he could react, she began to pull to the side, and he watched in frozen horror as a line began to form straight down her arm, starting between the middle and ring finger, following the divide between where the bones _should_ have been.

As she pulled, the flesh shifted from a healthy pink to a sickly green, coated in a translucent mucus. He began to see the individual clumps and lines, and realized with rising horror that what he was looking at was dozens...hundreds of leeches, clinging together.

In a flash, he was on his feet, pistol in hand as Rebecca just continued to pull. Soon, her arm was split in two, each part twisting bonelessly with pulsing contractions. A wave of movement would split at the divide, going up the two fronds, and he watched as she moved each finger individually, even twisting them back beyond normal range. All without any bones or anything.

Rebecca stared at him, ignoring the gun. Silently, her arm began to thread itself back together. Before his eyes, her arm regained its pink colouration, the wide divide patching itself up without a seam. It was like he had blinked, and everything he'd just seen was a terrible daydream. And yet he knew what he saw, and she did too, if the tears in her eyes were anything to go by.

Reluctantly, he clicked off the safety. "What...what happened?"

"Marcus. Marcus happened," she replied sadly. "I made the stupid mistake of following a madman. He infected me with his leeches."

"Can it be cured?" he asked, hoping to God she answered "yes."

"No," she shook her head. "There's nothing left _to_ cure. Rebecca died in that mansion. Everything you see before you is leeches. There's nothing left of _me_, any more. Just...leeches. They ate everything. The last thing I had of me were my bones, and I buried them."

Rebecca laughed hollowly. "Not very often one gets to bury themselves, right?"

Looking back on it, Chris knew there were clues. "Wesker missed the body armour."

It was a statement, not a question, but Rebecca nodded. "He aimed above it. Went straight into my chest. We both know a shot like that should have killed me."

She lowered the collar of her shirt slightly, exposing the top of her chest. Not a mark. Chris tightened his grip, but continued to hesitate. She looked so...pained. Just like that young girl that had come out of the mansion with them.

_It was the same girl, _he corrected bitterly. She'd had to face this all on her own, with no one else. God only knew how horrific it was for her. But he had to know if she was a threat. If she was, he had a duty to the world. "Is it infectious?"

"Yes," Rebecca admitted, swallowing nervously. "And no. The leeches...I am infectious, but only if they...attack."

Rebecca gestured slowly to the apartment around them, and Chris allowed his gaze to waver, gun still trained on her. "You see my place? Spotless. Everywhere I go, I clean up after myself. Not easy, but it's to keep people safe."

Chris glanced back at her. B.O.W.'s didn't try to keep others safe. They just hunted and infected. He supposed it was theoretically possible, but a part of him knew the real answer was probably the simplest one. She wasn't a B.O.W.

She was Rebecca. Whatever she had become was her, or something like her. But there were still things that didn't add up. "Those can't be all of them."

He gestured to her, indicating the leeches making up her body. Rebecca nodded again. "There's more."

"Where?" Chris demanded quietly.

"In my room. I can show you," she offered.

"Walk, slowly," Chris instructed, letting her lead. Slowly, he followed her, watching his surroundings. Now that he knew there were more, he was anticipating an attack from the side. Soon, they reached the two doors. "Stop. Open both doors."

Rebecca nodded, first opening the bathroom. It was a small room, with no out of place features. A simple bath obscured by a curtain, a toilet, and a sink. He flicked his gun towards the bath. "Pull the curtain aside."

Rebecca walked slowly over the tile, pulling aside the curtain, revealing a grime-slicked and stained tub basin. Chris had to admit, it was a little disgusting, but nothing compared to some of the things he'd seen.

"Is that a vector?" he asked. If the water drained into the public system, people could easily be infected. That's how Raccoon had started.

"I manually plugged up the bathtub," Rebecca explained getting on her hands and knees, pointing to the joint between the tub and the floor. Chris tilted his head, getting a better look. The pipe was disconnected, and the drain had been blocked.

"What happens to the water?"

"Heavily bleached and sanitized. Sent through waste handling," Rebecca recited. Chris almost wanted to compliment the lengths she was going to, but held his tongue. Instead, he backed out of the bathroom, gesturing to the other door.

Rebecca approached, fiddling with the lock. She glanced back over her shoulder at him, clearly uneasy. "Just...be ready, okay?"

She pushed the door open, and Chris could instantly see what she had been warning him about. At the far side of the room was a tank, positively _full_ of leeches. The swirling mass ranged anywhere from thin, almost invisible threads to thick things as big as his fingers. The second the door was open, they seemed to almost _sense_ him, stopping in their motions to align themselves like arrows.

Like they were watching him.

"These are the rest," Rebecca explained. "The rest of me, I guess."

Chris was silent as he observed the leeches, glancing between them and Rebecca. He wanted to destroy them on principle, but something held him back. Rebecca had allowed him to see this, knowing full well that it was her weakness. He couldn't kill them with just his pistol, but allowing such knowledge to leave her singular possession was a trust move.

He wanted to trust her, he really did. He had betrayed the trust she'd placed in him years ago, when she'd tried to reach out about this. He couldn't help but wonder. If she'd shown him then, could he have saved her before there was nothing left?

Realistically, he knew that was impossible. The virus was only just starting to be understood, and Rebecca's infection was unique, even amongst all the ones he'd seen. And if she had shown him, he wasn't sure how he would have reacted. Maybe he would have shot her then.

So why wasn't he shooting now?

A splashing caught his attention, and he refocused his aim as some of the leeches spilled over the top of the tank. Faster than he expected, they were sliding across the floor towards him, mouths open hungrily. He started to move his pistol when Rebecca stepped in the way. He was about to shout when he realized that her back was to him. She wasn't protecting them from him, she was protecting _him_ from _them_.

Rebecca said nothing, holding her hand up firmly. The leeches stopped on the spot, lifting their mouths up almost in protest. With a wave of her hand, she got them to turn around, returning to the tank. He watched in morbid fascination as they seemed to almost build on each other to climb it, sliding over each other in perfect concert.

"How did you..?"

"I told you," she said, voice heavy with sorrow. "This is all me. There's nothing left. Just...leeches."

"But you just stopped them," he pointed out. The smile Rebecca gave him struck something deep inside, shaking his core.

"I feel their hunger. I knew they wanted to feed. But I said no," she explained. A sudden shudder seemed to overcome her, and she rubbed her arms, looking away. "Even now, looking at you, I feel _hungry_. I don't want to do this anymore…"

He could only imagine how heavily this weighed on her. "You're all alone, aren't you?"

Rebecca nodded, and Chris sighed, slowly lowering the gun. Despite being threatened by leeches only moments ago, any urge to kill her had been replaced with pity. She'd gone to extreme lengths to protect everyone else, and suffered alone. No one deserved that. Especially not a victim like her. Carefully, he tucked the gun away, and Rebecca looked at him, confusion building in her eyes.

"It's not your fault," he said quietly. "This was done to you. You've suffered long enough. Let us help you."

"No...I can't ask you to do that," Rebecca said quickly. "What I am is illegal. If anyone found out, they'd kill me, and you'd be done. Just...let me take care of it. Leave, and I'll finish it all. I've just been waiting...for the right moment."

"Rebecca, I'm not going to let you suffer alone any more. We failed you before, but we're not going to do it again," Chris insisted. He recognized that tone; the one soldiers used before they did something irreversible. He had to take control of the situation.

"Please...don't call me that. I don't deserve that name," Rebecca pleaded. "I'm not her. Rebecca died in that mansion."

"Then who's right here? What do you think of yourself?" Chris pressed. Rebecca stammered for a few seconds before Chris spoke again. "Because I think there's more of you than you think there is. You could have given up at any time. You could have killed me. But you're so determined to avoid that that you'd even kill yourself to stop it. That sounds like the kind of person that would have joined S.T.A.R.S. I might not have known you as well as I should have, but I'd like to."

He offered his hand, fixing her with a determined look. "Please, Rebecca. Don't do this to yourself. Let me help you. Take my hand."

Rebecca looked conflicted, eying his hand as if it might bite her. Ironic, considering it was more likely to be the other way around. Hesitantly, gingerly, she reached for his hand. Her fingers brushed past his, and he held back a shudder at the cold feeling. He didn't waver as she closed her hand into his. Even as he squeezed to seal the deal, he could feel her hand bend around his, the layers sliding beneath his palm.

Looking her in the eyes, he noted that even if her hands weren't real, the tears of relief were. Gently, he urged her out of the room. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."


End file.
